


The Eldest, The Middle, and The Youngest

by Zang_Bluetterfly



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Gen, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zang_Bluetterfly/pseuds/Zang_Bluetterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwendal has his own point of view towards his brothers and he himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eldest, The Middle, and The Youngest

**Title : The Eldest, The Middle, and The Youngest**

**Summary:**

**Gwendal has his own point of view towards his brothers and he himself.**

**Disclaimers: All disclaimers apply. I don't own Kyou Kara Maou.**

**.-.-.**

            _/Many times in books I read, I come to recognize that in the family, the children are portrayed differently according to their birth lines. The eldest are usually serious, mature and distant. The middle are kinder, more cheerful, while the youngest are totally the opposite of the eldest: spoiled and bratty./_

            It was a peaceful evening. Gwendal had decided to take a break from his mountains of paperwork and retreated to his spacious chamber. He had intended to knit, but later took the option to write instead.

            Beside knitting, the stoic Mazoku found writing as a stress reliever as well as knitting. Sometimes during his-doing-paper-work-time, Gwendal wrote whatever crossed his minds. Many of the writings converted into paper-balls and ended up in the dust bin under his desk, but a few was kept in his private folders.

            _/I used to think about the portrait with disdain. It’s just typical. Cliché, that’s what I thought, and it’s damn annoying. But as time went by, I started to admit, although unwillingly, that maybe it’s rather true. Being the eldest, I realized that I am a serious person. I don’t know since when I attained it, but I just did. As long as I can remember, when I was very young, I never acted protective or affectionate towards my younger brothers. I was full of myself. I had fun with my own friends, and hardly hang out with my brothers./_

            The age gap between the brothers sometimes had deterred him to just play with them. He was already a big boy when Conrad was born. About twenty years later, Celi gave birth to Wolfram.

            _/Let me set myself, Conrad and Wolfram as the example./_

_/The eldest are mature and serious because they bear burdens to be the leaders of the younger, responsibilities to take, and lots to do. So far, I barely thought about those matters. But just currently thoughts crossed my minds: perhaps realizing it or not, the circumstances, the pressure and the expectations people put on me have made me who I am today./_

            Gwendal raised his hand and soothe the creases on his forehead. Maybe those paperwork and him racking his brains to run the country on behalf of his respective mother -and now of that carefree-teenaged-king- contributed the mos to the presence of those unwanted wrinkles.

            _/The middle in the family, that is Conrad, is a nicer person, more cheerful, and full of life. When we were very young, he was the trouble of the family. Despite that, Conrad is caring and loving. He socializes with people easily and is open: something that's hard for me to do. I'm always on guard, I keep the distance, especially with new people./_

            There had been extremely dreadful issues pertinent to Conrad's mixed heritage. Gwendal knew that the brunette boy was subjected to the unpleasant prejudice due to his half human-demon blood. The fact that Conrad was his brother and also the recipient of those horrible accusations had aggravated Gwendal to no end. Sure at that time he had held grudge against human race, but when it came to his half brother, it was entirely a different story.

            Deep inside, Gwendal had been incredibly conflicted. In one hand, the Mazoku were against the human, but on the other hand, he felt affectionate towards his brunette brother.

            Now that the war was over, Gwendal was more than delighted noting that many -both from the human race and demon tribe as well- admired Conrad.

            _/While the youngest is just like I've mentioned above. As the youngest, Wolfram has many privileges. My mother spoils him too much. Whenever and wherever he has wishes, he gets us to succumb them. Spoiled and bratty, just he is. Conrad and I are often vexed./_

_/One particular afternoon, mother and I sat and had a chat in my study chamber./_

_/”I wonder why your dear brother is so stubborn and demanding,” she said./_

_/”Because he has big brothers who take most responsibilities,” I idly remarked./_

_/Mother seemed impressed with my statement. Later, she loves it and keep asking me to repeat it again and again./_

            Gwendal put down his quill. He read his writing once again and then leaned heavily in his chair. This was the best moment he ever had: sank lazily in his comfortable chair and let the breeze lulled his mind. What a perfect day.

            Still with closed eyes, the general wandered how a gentle breeze could intrude his chamber. Astonishingly, it tickled his nostrils with sweet scents of wild grass and indescribable fragrance that set his mind at peace.

            “You didn't write about me.”

            Gwendal's eyes snapped open in an instant. He lifted his head up. There, Gunter von Christ hovered above him, his eyes fixed on the parchment laid on the desk.

            “Gunter, don't disturb me!”

            Maybe it had something to do with being a wind wielder, Gunter's breath also had unique scents. So, it wasn't the breeze, Gwendal mused.

            Indigo eyes closed again.

            Gwendal nearly jolted when Gunter's fingers treaded his scalp.

            “What are you doing?” sure he was startled, although he didn't jerk away from the touch.

            “Give you a massage,” was the simple answer. “Your stress piles up, making the knots in your body tense.”

            Gwendal hissed lowly when Gunter hit the tied knots at the back of his head.

            “You're such a deep guy, Gwendal,” Gunter stated calmly.

            “What makes you think so?”

            “I just know it. We've known each other for very very long time. May I add that  Celi's oldest son is self-centered on your list?”

            “You dig your own grave, I remind you.”

            “How about Gwendal von Voltaire thinks he is always right?”

            “I'll bury you alive.”

            “You're no fun at all.”

            “I'm not funny.”

            The general was back to his usual grumpy attitude. Somehow inwardly he was distracted by Gunter's words. They hit the very right nail in his head. “You're right. Perhaps I always think whatever I do is right,” the grey-haired Mazoku countered flatly.

            “I was just kidding. No offense,” Gunter withdrew his fingers and pulled out a chair next to his friend.

            Gwendal bore his eyes squarely into Gunter's. “I've lived longer and experienced more than Conrad and Wolfram. That's why I feel superior.”

            “I see,” Gunter smiled. “If I may give my opinion, the three of you have your own charms. But you should write about me too.”

            Gunter's pout amused Gwendal. He had known Gunter as long as he could remember. He knew a lot about the other adviser. Oddly, he couldn't phrase it into words.

            For seconds Gwendal kept his eyes closed. Just when Gunter was sure that his friend fell asleep, unexpectedly Gwendal said, “Gunter?”

            “Yes?”

            “You're my best friend.”

            “Then write about me too.”

            “I won't.”

            It didn't need words to tell about Gunter because Gunter von Christ in person was far more fascinating than any words could describe.

.-.-.

**The End**


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